


20/20

by ACometAppears



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Bucky's prosthesis, Gen, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve's vision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 02:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1802569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACometAppears/pseuds/ACometAppears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the war, Steve's eyesight was poor. Bucky didn't care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	20/20

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on tumblr, after seeing a post about the myriad health problems pre-serum Steve had, and how people rarely write about any of them, other than his asthma. 
> 
> I focussed on his astigmatism is this story: I have an astigmatism myself, so I decided to work with my own experiences here (the descriptions of what his vision is like, in particular). My vision problems aren't as bad as Steve's, though, mainly because I've had treatment, for free, that he couldn't afford back then. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you like this!!

Before the war, Steve’s eyesight was poor. There was no doubt about it: things were blurry, and fuzzy, and he couldn’t see fine detail. But he didn’t complain about it, generally: before he got his eyes tested, he thought it was normal, and that everyone saw like him.

Once he found out that no one else saw everything like he did, he was kind of annoyed that he couldn’t see like everyone else, but he wasn’t too mad - there wasn’t much he could do about it. He wasn’t bitter - except when they used to set him aside at school. It’s not that he couldn’t do the work - he worked damn hard for his grades, in every single class - it’s just that he had trouble reading it. Every drawing was a labour of love: people used to laugh when he’d hold sketchbooks at different distances away from his eyes, and squint, making sure he was doing okay. 

It didn’t make finding a job easy, either. He always hoped that maybe he could pass the medical exams and get into the army through sheer force of will, but even that required better vision than his. 

It didn’t matter how many people laughed or ridiculed him, though: Bucky never laughed at him, or pointed out his obvious shortcomings, when it came to his sight. He did his best to convince him that his lazy eye was hardly noticeable, and that he was still a catch; he rolled his eyes, and took books away from Steve’s grasp, reading the text aloud to him instead of watching him frown down at the words a second longer. 

Once or twice, when Steve had had a drink, he’d jokingly ask Bucky if he could feel his face - Bucky told him, _you’re not blind, punk_. Steve told him he just wanted to know what he was missing out on: all the extra detail he couldn’t quite see. So, Bucky obliged - he could never let the kid go unhappy, whether it be defending him from bullies, or letting him cup his face in his hands for a few moments, brushing his fingers across the skin. 

-

One of the best things about the serum is that Steve's eyesight becomes a lot better. There are so many huge medical benefits, that it’s easy for him to neglect to feel grateful for some of the smaller ones - but it’s the little things in life that Steve’s always enjoyed. The feeling of contentment when he completes a drawing, the swell in his chest when he watches a war movie - the sense of pride he gets when Bucky smiles at him. 

Before, not only was it hard to tell where things were positioned - it was hard to make them out in much detail at all. Letters blurred and danced into one another, morphing into unintelligible blocks of black, and white; the outlines of objects were fuzzy round the edges, and people’s faces were jumbled and covered in swarming static. He wasn’t joking about stepping on dames’ feet - just telling where they were in relation to his own would have been a nightmare. 

Now, everything is crystal clear: they tell him he has excellent eyesight - twenty-twenty vision. He sees colours better and brighter, than before: more vibrant, and much different in tone and hue than he’s used to. But the best thing is people’s faces: the change in definition is a delight to him, in general - but particularly, as an artist. Drawing becomes even more of an obsession, and an adventure, just seeing the massive variation and minute expressions he hadn’t been able witness to before. 

-

Rescuing Bucky from the HYDRA facility is messed up for so many reasons. One of them is that the first time Steve sees Bucky’s face - really, truly sees it, for all that it is - he’s staring up into space, looking distressed and out of it, with blood trickling from his ear. He doesn’t have time to appreciate it: not the dappled stubble, or the dimple in his chin, or the startling deep blue of his eyes. 

Later on, when Bucky’s recovering, he’s the one to ask:  
"Can you see those details you were missing out on, now?"  
Steve says that he can - Bucky bites his lip, and asks,  
"So you don’t have to touch my face anymore?"  
Steve says that he doesn’t _have_ to, in a way that lets Bucky know that he’d still _like_ to, though. 

It’s different, this time: Steve knows what he’s doing - but the main difference is the size of the hands touching Bucky’s face. They’re much bigger, but still just as gentle, and careful, as they were before. Steve feels the creases in Bucky’s face, and the way his cheeks bulge, as he smiles and brings Steve’s knuckles to his mouth for a kiss with one of his own calloused, scarred hands.  
"Still a punk," He mutters jokingly, as he does it. Steve blushes. 

-

Steve’s glad he was able to see Bucky properly, before he died. But he’s even gladder that he got to touch him, got to kiss him and _feel_ him, before he fell into that ravine. 

But in a way, it’s like all he did was worsen his own torture: all the extra visual definition gave him was a more defined ghost, to haunt his memory; all the new touches gave him were new phantom caresses to linger on his skin, never to be felt again. 

-

When Steve next sees Bucky, it’s like his vision has deteriorated again: it’s the same distortion as before, just of another kind. Before, Bucky’s face was fuzzy, and blurred - now, it’s warped and changed, gone horribly awry and just _not right_ at all. Steve would rather see him with his old sight problems, than with perfect 20/20 vision like _this_. Changed into something he’s not; twisted into something he’d hate. 

At least his perfect vision helps him dodge Bucky’s bullets, and fight to get him back … Though he’d sacrifice every medical enhancement he received - all of it, every bit - just to have Bucky remember who he is. 

-

When Bucky comes back to him, he’s never quite the same - but Steve wouldn’t expect him to be, after everything that’s happened to them both. Neither of them are the same people, though their bodies are largely the same: Bucky’s missing an arm, but it’s not something that matters, to Steve. Just like Steve’s poor vision never mattered to Bucky, all those years ago. 

It takes Bucky a while to ask Steve to touch his face, again: Steve blinks, unsure he didn’t just imagine what Bucky asked for. But the nervous way he’s looking at Steve, like he’s just put himself out there and made himself vulnerable, confirms it was real. 

Steve reaches out, and touches his face, just like they did over seventy years ago: there are a few more lines, now; there's more stubble than before, and a few minute scars hidden beneath it. When Bucky quietly tells him it’s okay for him to feel the scars on the left side of his torso, too, he does - the touch is therapeutic, for both of them. 

The scars are raised, and pale; some of them are larger than others, particularly in the area where Bucky’s prosthesis fixes to his skin. Bucky asks if he’s ashamed, or disgusted - he sounds as if he’s genuinely expecting Steve to say yes, to both. 

But Steve shakes his head, with a soft smile - and he tells him the story of two boys from Brooklyn: one who couldn’t see well, and one who didn’t care. He tells him how Bucky always looked after him, always stood up for him, and never felt ashamed to be with him - because there was nothing to be ashamed of. 

He tells Bucky he’s just returning the favour. And it’s an honour.


End file.
